


Room Two

by samwhambam



Series: The Room(s) Where It Happened [5]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M, Post episode 4x07, Sex Motel Series, Sherwood Motel, a lil bit of angst, even when you are mad at them and wish you weren't, pre episode 4x08, this basically explores how you miss someone and still need them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22974352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwhambam/pseuds/samwhambam
Summary: This is the 5th installment of the Sex Motel series. This takes place after the BBQ, but before the Olive Branch episode.*He tapped the phone screen to keep it from dimming and before he could think twice, he tapped on Patrick’s contact information and hit ‘call’. Patrick picked up on the first ring.“David.”David took a deep breath, just to center himself.“I’m still upset. But I miss you,” David said.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: The Room(s) Where It Happened [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1644181
Comments: 74
Kudos: 239





	Room Two

**Author's Note:**

> i hated this up until a few days ago. thank you to tinn who held my hand and helped me think of ways to fix the garbage fire it used to be. 
> 
> i am much happier with this version.

It was early, too early to be in bed, but David was dressed for bed and wrapped in his blankets. It was  _ Wednesday.  _ It was Wednesday, but instead of being in their--Patrick’s bed, taking advantage of Ray being gone at poker, David was in his own bed, with the covers pulled up to his chin, on his side, staring at his cellphone that he had been ignoring for two days. 

He had been ignoring it, while simultaneously checking it at every chance, longing for Patrick and  _ something, anything  _ from him. Each call that came through made David breathe a little bit easier, while also flaring his anxiety.  _ What if it was the last time Patrick called?  _

Each text was a life raft in the pool of self-pity that David had curated for himself. Each plea to  _ Let’s just talk, David,  _ made his heart break. 

It was Wednesday and he was all alone, two days after that wretched BBQ where a perfectly cute redhead had come and revealed a big fucking secret that Patrick had been holding back from David. It had hurt, to know that Patrick had kept an  _ engagement  _ from him and no matter how much he sympathized with Patrick feeling off-kilter his entire life, he couldn’t help feeling angry at the whole situation. 

Alexis was out, he wasn’t sure where she was, but he was thankful for the solitude. If he couldn’t see Patrick, he didn’t want to see anyone. He didn’t want anymore  _ ‘um, David, I know that you’re going through a hard time right now, but natural light is your friend and you should maybe go outside. Or shower.’  _ He didn’t need her pity hands. 

His phone lit up, a soft globe of glow in the dim lighting of the setting sun that drifted into his room because he forgot to close the blinds. He took a deep breath, then another and hoped to god that it wasn’t Stevie or someone in his family. 

_ I missed you today.  _

He unlocked his phone, stared at the message in it’s home, nestled underneath other text messages. 

_ Can you let me know if you’re okay? _

_ I saw that they’re extending the Julia Stiles-athon. I called and they can change the date on the tickets. Let me know if you want me to drop them off so you can go. You can take Stevie with you.  _

_ I’m so sorry, David. Please, I want us to talk about it.  _

David scrolled through the texts. He pulled his blankets up over his head, trapping him with the light from his phone. He felt too much, there was too much at stake over the whole situation and he was drowning in it. In the sadness and the longing for  _ Patrick  _ and where they were last Wednesday, rolling around in Patrick’s bed with a house to themselves, together. 

Instead, now, he was so mad at Patrick, but he missed him  _ so  _ much. 

He tapped the phone screen to keep it from dimming and before he could think twice, he tapped on Patrick’s contact information and hit ‘ _ call’.  _ Patrick picked up on the first ring. 

_ “David.”  _

David took a deep breath, just to center himself. 

“I’m still upset. But I miss you,” David said. The blankets muffled his voice and he hoped he didn’t sound as pathetic as he felt. 

_ “I miss you too.”  _

“Um, can I see you?” He was cut off by Patrick’s relieved voice. 

_ “Yes. Absolutely.”  _

“I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to talk about Rachel or our feelings,” David cursed his voice as it broke on  _ ‘Rachel’.  _ “I just want to see you. Because I miss you.” 

_ “That’s fine.”  _ Patrick cleared his throat and a sick part of David hoped he was crying. 

“Come pick me up,” David said before he dropped his phone, hung up before Patrick could say anything. He dragged himself out of bed. He just needed to wash his face and spray some dry shampoo in his hair and then he’d be  _ semi- _ presentable. 

Too soon there was a tentative knock on the door. It was quiet and if David wasn’t sitting at the foot of his bed, he probably wouldn’t have heard it. He opened the door and Patrick let out a muffled  _ ‘hey’.  _

David stepped past him and pulled the door closed quietly. He followed Patrick to the car, sliding into the passenger seat as Patrick turned on the car. 

“Music?” Patrick asked. He held out the aux cord and David took it gingerly, careful to not touch Patrick’s skin. He plugged his phone in and scrolled through Spotify. It wasn’t a diva’s night. He skipped over the classic rock playlists, the top 40 compilation. He scrolled past Fleetwood Mac; Rumors was Patrick’s go to for driving music, but if David had to listen to Silver Springs at this exact moment, he was going to lose it. 

He scrolled down Spotify quickly, the albums blurred together as he stared with unfocused eyes. He couldn’t land on anything. He locked his phone as Patrick pulled out of the motel parking lot. 

“Where should I go?” Patrick broke the silence in the car as he rolled to a stop at the end of the driveway. 

“Out of town,” David responded. He rolled down the window as Patrick took a right, driving them away from Schitt’s Creek. The wind rushed into the car, filling the silence with white noise. David closed his eyes as he turned his head into the wind current. 

The air was cold and prickled at David’s skin, little needles into his skin and David held his position for as long as he could, until his eyes were watering and he had to turn back towards Patrick. He didn’t know what was worse, staring the cold air in the face or watching Patrick throw sad, longing glances in David’s direction. 

“Any place in particular?” Patrick asked. The car barrelled down the highway, Schitt’s Creek falling behind them, and David shook his head.

“No, just keep driving,” David said. 

They rode in silence as Patrick continued onward, the tires loud against the road. He had listened to Patrick go back and forth over whether he wanted to buy his new tires from Bob or from another shop in Elmdale. In the end, the proximity of Bob’s Garage to the store was what swayed him and now David wishes Patrick had gone to Elmdale and splurged on the nicer tires like Patrick originally wanted to do. The scrape of the rubber against the asphalt was grating on David’s nerves and chipping away at his resolve. 

He so desperately wanted to ask about Rachel, ask about why Patrick didn’t tell him any of it.

“How’s the store?” David asked. He curled his fingers around the door handle, gripping tight. 

“Good,” Patrick sighed. “Lots of people have been coming by, asking more and more invasive questions, trying to get details. Their rubber-necking has been good for business though.”

The silence settled back around them as David nodded. 

“Listen, David--” Patrick started. 

“No,” David cut him off, turning to face him. “I said that I wanted to see you, only if we didn’t talk about that and you agreed, so if you’re going to say something about what happened, don’t.”

Patrick just stared straight ahead. His ears wiggled as the end of his lips twitched. 

“Okay,” Patrick said. His voice was tight and David felt bad, then angry at himself for feeling bad for Patrick because that’s not how this worked. 

David reached down and reclined the seat just a bit more. He sunk down further into the cushion. It was dark, a sky full of clouds blocked the light from the stars and David let the rest of the tension he was carrying in his neck bleed out of his pores, into the car and the swirl of the air from the open window and out into the night sky. 

They were approaching Elm Glen and Patrick signaled off the highway. David raised an eyebrow at the  _ click-click-click  _ of the mechanism.

“I think this is an appropriate time to shame eat some McDonalds,” Patrick said as he took the first exit. David hummed in agreement as Patrick crawled to a stop before he turned onto Elm Glen’s main street. 

The Sherwood passed by in a blur as Patrick led them to the drive thru entrance, his front right tire just barely hoping up on the part of the driveway that’s just beginning to turn into a curb. 

“What do you want?” Patrick asked, his face bright from the lights of the electronic menu, an upgrade from the old paper menu they had the last time that they passed by. It had been too dark to see what was on the billboard, so David pulled up the menu on his phone. They didn’t have the top three menu items David wanted; instead, he sat in the motel room afterwards, eating an Oreo McFlurry with a grimace on his face. 

There were too many ways in which David wanted to answer that question. 

_ For things to be normal again.  _

_ For you to have told me about Rachel. _

_ You. _

_ Can we pretend like this didn’t happen? _

_ A big mac with fries, a large coke and two apple pies.  _

_ Just the oreos and not the McFlurry.  _

“I need a minute,” David said instead. Which was the safe answer. Because he didn’t want a big mac. Or to forget the events of the last few days. 

He wanted chicken nuggets and for Patrick to apologize profusely and dote on him until he was ready to talk. 

“Take your time,” Patrick murmured, his voice loud in the still of the car. David chanced a glance at him. Patrick was staring at the menu, his face illuminated by harsh fluorescence, and for the first time that night, David looked at him. Truly looked at him. 

He wanted to brush a thumb over the shadows under Patrick’s eyes, just to feel the skin, gentle enough so he didn’t tug, or run an index finger along the stubble that Patrick really should’ve shaved down the morning of the BBQ, but he had been too busy that morning to shave, and hadn’t shaved since. Instead, Patrick had sent him text after text explaining many conspiracy theories involving the Spice Girls, all of which, David ignored with a playful eyeroll. 

Patrick was beautiful and it hurt David to look at him. Etched into every cell of Patrick’s skin, was a hint of regret, the shine of a lie and David wasn’t ready to face it. There was a ghost of pain on Patrick’s face and David felt it in his gut. 

He couldn’t look away. Not when Patrick was the most breathtaking creature David had ever seen. Patrick turned his head to look at David. Their eyes caught over the wall that David had created when he first got into the car. David couldn’t look away, not when Patrick was looking at him like David was the light at the end of the tunnel. Like piping hot pizza at the end of the work day. Like a depressed man who had finally opened the curtains and was breathing in their first ray of sunshine in days. 

David flicked his eyes back towards the menu, breaking the spell between them. 

“Are you still there?” A crackly voice broke through the silence and Patrick turned back to the window. 

“Yeah,” His voice broke and David slumped further down into his seat as Patrick ordered. 

The bags were hot on David’s thighs and he grimaced as he moved them onto the floor between his feet. 

“Wanna hand me my apple pie?” Patrick asked as he began to pull into a parking spot. 

David opened his mouth to respond, not sure what he was going to suggest they do besides anything but eat in the car, in the dark parking lot. David was a lot, but he wasn’t sure he was ‘sitting in an empty parking lot eating greasy foods’ a lot. 

And yet, he didn’t stop Patrick from pulling into a space and putting the the car in park. He handed over the apple pie as he pulled his nuggets out. 

“I can’t listen to us chew,” David said as he caved and put on the first Spotify generated playlist he found. 

They ate with the soft folk music wrapping them in a blanket. It was his “Daily Mix 3” playlist, the one curated from all the music he’s played for Patrick. He’s grown to love it, the soft guitar chords triggered a layer of calm over him. The folk music is a warm bed with wayward sheets and Patrick smiling at him, blissed out and satiated from David’s tongue. 

It hurt right now. Hurts like the lick of a flame from a lighter when you misjudge the length of a joint you’re lighting. But it feels good. 

The soft lick of guitars kept them companion as they ate and then the trash was back in the paper bag, balled up at David’s feet. 

He could feel Patrick looking at him. He let himself turn to face him and he felt his breath hitch at the soft lines of Patrick. It was the same look after David had fucked him for the first time. It was the wide open “ _ this is where I was meant to be”  _ that tore David apart and made him think that this could be it. That he may never have to worry about dating again. 

But that security was ripped out from underneath him. 

Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Patrick was meant to be here, next to David. Forever. 

Patrick’s hand was gripping the gear stick, his knuckles glowed white and David put his own hand on top, sliding his fingers into the space between Patrick’s own. The ends of Patrick’s lips twitched, the muscles flexed as Patrick bit back whatever he was contemplating saying. Instead Patrick just smiled softly, his eyes traced every inch of David’s skin and David blushed under the scrutiny. 

Patrick knew him, could read him like a book, and David was glad that Patrick could and that he had learned to let him. 

“Let’s get out of here?” David whispered. 

David watched Patrick maneuver through the parking lot, watched his hands slide over the steering wheel and the lights flicker across his pale face. He was beautiful and David was full of feelings for him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the harsh glow of the  _ ‘vacancy’  _ sign standing proud over the Sherwood. It was late and David wasn’t ready to go back to his bed, alone. Not when the only shred of comfort he felt on a day-to-day basis was sitting right next to him. 

“Pull over at the Sherwood,” David said. Patrick raised his eyebrows but still followed David’s directions. 

Before Patrick cut the engine, David was stepping out of the car, wallet in hand. 

“Wait here,” David tossed back before he closed the passenger door. 

_ Room 2.  _

Another day another room. 

David held on tightly to the key as he made his way back to Patrick’s car. He opened the door, leaned in, and grabbed the travel sized bottle of lube and some of the spare condoms from the center console. For just in case. He closed his door behind him as he walked to Patrick’s door. 

Patrick killed the engine as David opened the door. 

“Come on,” David murmured, his fingers teased at the shell of Patrick’s ear and then Patrick was following him across the parking lot. 

There was a sharp buzzing and a few clicks and they glanced up and behind them, just in time to watch the  _ ‘No’  _ to light up above the  _ ‘vacancy.’ _

David reached out for Patrick’s hand and gripped onto his strong fingers, the metal of the key biting into their skin. 

“David,” Patrick breathed as David walked them to room 2. 

He shook his head in response as he let go of Patrick’s hand to unlock the door. 

The room was illuminated by the walkway light situated right outside and David followed the rays, stepping around the bed to turn on the bedside lamp. Patrick was leaning against the door when David looked up. 

He held his hand out and Patrick pushed himself off the door, his eyes calculating as he reached David.

“Rings?” David tilted his hand and Patrick gripped his palm and pulled the rings off slowly. There was a question in his eyes and David lifted his hand to Patrick’s lips. Patrick kissed each knuckle, the same way he did anytime he took David’s rings off. 

“David?” Patrick murmured against David’s wrist. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” David responded. He shifted his hand so Patrick’s lips trailed over the skin of his forearm and wrapped his hand around the back of Patrick’s neck.

They moved closer to each other and David gasped into the kiss. Had it really only been a few days? The hours had felt like a lifetime and David was drowning in the feeling of Patrick’s lips against his. 

Patrick’s arms were strong around his waist, his fingers tucked in underneath David’s sweater and cold against David’s warm skin. David shivered as Patrick’s fingers made their way up his spine, fingertips walking up, cautiously. 

Patrick’s fingers were on his back and David’s matched them in a deathgrip on the back of Patrick’s neck and shoulder. David pulled back from the kiss just to let out a sigh of relief, but Patrick tilted his chin up, just the slightest bit, and that was David’s cue. 

Patrick was kissing him like David was a treasure that he couldn’t get enough of. The gentle velvet of Patrick’s tongue was comforting and the scrape of his stubble grounded David. He pulled back with a soft bite to Patrick’s lower lip. 

“I need you,” David whispered. “I need you back in my life, so badly. We need to talk about it, but I just need a little bit more time. Just to get ready for that talk.”

Patrick nodded, his fingers tangling with David’s. 

“Can we just lay down for a bit?” David asked. He focused on the soft sound of Patrick’s breathing as Patrick nodded. 

“Of course,” Patrick said. He sat down on the edge of the bed and untied his shoes. David watched Patrick’s fingers tug at his laces. When the shoes were off, Patrick patted at his knee. “Foot?”

David raised his foot, resting it gently on Patrick’s knee. Patrick pulled at David’s laces, unwrapping the lace from his ankle with reverence and soft fingers. He pulled the shoe off, one hand holding David’s ankle as the shoe slipped off. He repeated with the other foot.

He stood up and pulled the corner of the sheets back before he moved to the other side of the bed. 

David slipped under the covers, the sheets were cold against his hands, his neck, and the sliver of skin between his sock and where his joggers had ridden up. Patrick was solid against his front as David cuddled up behind him, his arm tight around Patrick’s waist. 

He could feel Patrick’s chest moving, could hear the even huffs of Patrick’s breaths, could feel the steady drum of Patrick’s heartbeat where his nose was pressed against Patrick’s pulse point. 

“I don’t want this to end,” David whispered into the quiet. He heard a thump on the other side of the wall, followed by another one and then a giggle. “I keep getting scared and thinking that you’re going to get fed up with my dramatics and my needing time and then you’re going to leave me. I’m not--” David huffed, his throat tight. “--I’m not ready for this to end.”

Patrick shifted, his body tilted towards David, but David tightened his hold on him, not quite ready to see the look on Patrick’s face.  _ Was that too much?  _

Before David could worry, Patrick was pulling on David’s hand and pressing kisses into his knuckles. 

“I’m not going anywhere, David,” Patrick said. He bit the end of one of David’s fingers. “You make me feel the best I’ve ever felt. I love who I am with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

The silence settled back in around them, tucking them into bed and David sighed at the feeling. 

It felt good, right. 

_ You make me feel right, David.  _

David felt the tears pricking at the back of his eyes. 

“Patrick,” David whispered. 

He tightened his grip on Patrick and  _ pulled  _ until Patrick was facing him. 

“Kiss me,” David begged.

Patrick’s lips were gentle against his, a soft pucker until David was deepening it and pressing a knee between Patrick’s legs. 

“I need you, Patrick. Need you to fuck me,” David murmured as he trailed his lips across Patrick’s jaw to tug at his earlobe with his teeth. “Please.”

“David?” Patrick scraped a fingernail through David’s stubble. 

David pulled back, just enough to look into Patrick’s eyes, the soft brown bright in the dim light of the lamp. 

“I wanna feel good, with you,” David supplied, his fingertips roaming over Patrick’s shoulders. 

“Anything, David,” Patrick whispered. 

His hands moved on their own, pushing and pulling at Patrick until Patrick was sitting on the edge of the bed. David followed him as he moved back against the headboard, stopping kneeled on the bed while he pulled off his sleeping sweater. He dropped it onto the foot of the bed and sighed as one of Patrick’s hands came up to rest on his hip before sweeping up and over David’s ribs. 

“Wait, um,” David leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to Patrick’s lips. “I need to go, clean up a little bit. Can you get naked?”

Patrick’s ‘ _ yeah’  _ was just a hitch of breath. David slid off the bed, his socked feet made a soft  _ thud  _ against the carpet. He undressed in the bathroom, making quick work of folding his clothes and cleaning himself up. 

He was halfway out of the bathroom when he turned back and grabbed all the towels except for one hand towel and one of the larger ones. He stared at the big one that he left hanging. One would be enough. Patrick could use his towel if he needed to, but only after David used it. Patrick raised an eyebrow at David’s armful of fuzzy white. 

“I don’t know how this is going to go, after all that McDonalds, so,” David gestured at Patrick and Patrick shifted, laying back down after David laid out all the towels. 

“Are you sure you want to?” Patrick asked, his voice timid.

“Mhm, yep,” David murmured as he laid down on the bed next to Patrick. He pressed a kiss to Patrick’s shoulder, skimmed his teeth along his collarbone until he shifted so he was laying in between Patrick’s legs. “I’m so sure.”

Patrick was solid underneath him, dependable and David dug his fingertips into Patrick’s pale skin. 

“Kiss me,” David whispered, his lips an inch from Patrick’s. Patrick’s eyes were wide and searching—suspended in space, just for the beat before Patrick leaned up to kiss him. 

It was desperate. David could feel the longing in the kiss. It hurt, but David reveled in it, in the feeling of being wanted, needed. He could taste the apology on Patrick’s lips and he needed more. 

He broke the kiss to shimmy his way down Patrick’s body, trailing biting kisses down his body, until David was mouthing at Patrick’s soft cock. He blinked back the tears that had sprung. He stopped crying  _ last night.  _ He didn’t need it  _ tonight.  _

Patrick grew hard under David’s mouth, his tongue, the soft touches of his hand. Four months might not be a long time, but David had dedicated himself to mastering this. He could take Patrick Brewer apart, in whatever timespan he wanted. 

“Fuck, David,” Patrick gasped. He was hard against David’s tongue and then smearing precome onto David’s cheek as David licked at the base of his cock. 

He had one hand on his own dick, stroking himself as he made Patrick whimper beneath him. 

“Lube?” David asked for as he sat back, after pressing one final kiss to the head of Patrick’s cock. He accepted the small bottle that Patrick held out to him. “Keep yourself hard.”

David prepped himself quickly, efficiently, and wiped his slick fingers on one of the towels. 

“Condom,” David tilted his chin towards the bedside table where the foil packets glinted in the light from the lamp. 

Patrick rolled one on quickly before he smeared lube over his sheathed dick. 

They both gasped as David lowered himself onto Patrick, his muscles stretching to let Patrick in. 

“Fuck, David,” Patrick moaned as David rocked his hips, taking Patrick in deeper until he was buried to the hilt. 

“I know, Patrick. I know,” David gasped as he screwed his eyes shut, the pleasure on this side of too much. He let his body move, following the pleasure as it licked up his spine. He kept his eyes closed as he dug his fingers into Patrick’s ribs and hummed as he felt fingers close around his wrists. 

“C’mere,” Patrick slurred. David followed the soft tug on his wrists until he was hovering over Patrick, their breaths melding into one. He felt Patrick’s legs shift, his arms circled around David’s waist and then David gasped as he moved, Patrick rolling them over until he was on top. 

“David,” Patrick’s voice was clearer. David opened his eyes, meeting Patrick’s. They were still, the two of them just looking at each other. Patrick opened his mouth like he wanted to say something and his nose scrunched in the way it did when he can’t form the sentence he wants to. 

“Sh,” David hushed. “Don’t say anything. Just move, please.”

“David,” Patrick repeated as he began to move his hips. 

“Fuck,” David gasped at the change in angle. His hands slipped along Patrick’s shoulders. He couldn’t make purchase and whined in frustration until Patrick shifted his arms and David could wrap his arms around Patrick’s waist. “You feel so good.”

Patrick grunted as he gave a forceful thrust. He scooped David into his arms, held him close. 

It was hot, the lack of space between their bodies created a chasm of heat and David was suffocating in it. It felt like each one of his nerve endings was on fire and David basked in the feeling. 

He came with a shout, his cock trapped between their bodies as Patrick fucked him, following him over the edge soon after. 

David trailed his fingers over Patrick’s back as he held Patrick close, his legs tight around Patrick’s hips. 

“I need to take the condom off,” Patrick murmured as he shifted his hips. David let him move, but grabbed onto him at the last second. 

“Pull out very very slowly,” David warned. He could feel a pressure that he wasn’t sure he liked and groaned as Patrick pulled out. Patrick tied off the condom and David grabbed at a towel, moving quickly as he shuffled off the bed, until he was stopped. “Patrick, please roll off the towel.”

Patrick moved quickly and David scurried off to the bathroom. 

*

The lamp was off, when David finally entered the bedroom. Patrick’s face was illuminated by the soft glow of his phone. There was music playing and David rolled his eyes as  _ Old Flames (Can’t hold a candle to you)  _ drifted over to him. Patrick looked up and David sidestepped the pile of towels on the group as he climbed onto the bed. 

It was late; time was suspended in that hazy limbo between late night and early morning and David’s body was aching for sleep. 

David laid down next to Patrick as Patrick placed his phone on the nightstand. 

The music played on as Patrick held him, just like any other night they’ve spent together--listening to music and murmuring to each other as they drifted in and out of sleep. 

“Maybe tomorrow,” David said as Patrick’s hold on him tightened. 

“Okay, David,” Patrick breathed. 

Patrick fell asleep quickly and David could just barely make out his steady breathing over Dolly’s singing. 

_ Old flames, can’t hold a candle to you. No one can light up the night like you do. Flickering embers of love, I’ve known one or two. But old flames, can’t hold a candle to you.  _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr [as samwhambam](https://samwhambam.tumblr.com/).


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